Now I’m all alone. My reflection stares back at me. My hair looks neat and tidy. All the paint splodges are gone. The plait Selwyn gave me just now, looks identical to the one he gave me during our wedding ceremony.
To my eyes, at least. But who knows what intricacies the fey will notice?
“You idiot,” I whisper to the mirror.
I need to apologise. Immediately. Profoundly and sincerely. Drop to my knees and blow him, if that’s what it takes. Insults left unresolved are insults that fester and grow.
Prince Selwyn muttered something about humans before redoing my hair. Then he told Peaony that all was well. So, I think he knows that whatever I did was unintentional. It was an accident.
That doesn't mean he is not angry.
People always get angry about mistakes, and they never allow you to forget it. Their opinion of you withers and never ever recovers.
My throat tightens, and my heart starts to beat far too fast. I have to find him. Right now. Before it is too late.
My feet turn and I rush out of the dressing room. I have to find him. Nothing has ever been more important. But he could be anywhere, and the fey court is endless.
I close my eyes for a moment and centre myself. My senses shift through all the very many threads of magic thrumming through the palace. Amongst them, Selwyn’s magic burns bright and potent. Scarlet marbled with a silver that was once my own. My feet start to follow the trail before I have told them to.
I drift through Selwyn’s quarters. To my surprise, the trail doesn’t take me out into the main palace. Instead, it shimmers and gleams and leads me to the far corner of Selwyn’s rooms, to a door I have never noticed before.
I lift my hand to knock, but the sound of voices reaches my ears. Prince Selwyn is not alone. I will have to apologise another time.
“We are not ready to strike yet. We have one chance at this and one chance only. Once the element of surprise is lost, we have nothing.”
The voice sounds human and is speaking English. Young and male. There is nothing else I can discern.
“On the other hand, Kirby, if you wait too long, everything could unravel.” Selwyn’s voice sounds calm.
The first speaker grumbles something that I can’t make out.
“I can only give you the information,” says Selwyn. “What you choose to do with it is your concern.”
Hastily I back away. I’ve already heard far too much. The soft carpet sounds so loud under my feet as I retreat. Surely Selwyn can hear me? Fey must have good hearing, and if not, he can sense my magic as clearly as I can sense his.
I pause several rooms away and breathe. Selwyn hasn’t chased after me. Maybe he doesn’t know I was eavesdropping. Perhaps he won’t accuse me of being a spy.
Whatever he is up to, I want no part of it. Mother is always plotting, and I’ve never had the head for it. Nor the ambition.
All I have ever wanted was a peaceful life. Safety. Security. Someone to be kind to me.
My lungs shudder through a deep breath. If Selwyn is aware I was listening, he is not coming after me right now. Any consequences will be faced later.
So, I might as well enjoy the calm before the storm.
This is the worst dinner of my life, and that is saying something. I’m alone with Selwyn in his private dining room. Actually, I guess officially it is our dining room now, but I feel like an intruder, not a spouse.
It should be cosy in here. Intimate. But the air is too thick and the gravity is too heavy. I can feel the burn of Selwyn’s gaze on me from along the length of the table. The tablecloth is snowy white, the candles are bright, but nothing feels right.
I insulted him, and then I spied on him. Any minute now he is going to let me know exactly how he feels about both of those transgressions. And I missed my opportunity to apologise, and now I have lost my nerve. I’m incapable of bringing it up.
“Is there something wrong with the food?”
I flinch and hurriedly pick up my fork instead of pushing my food around the plate.
“No, not at all. It is quite lovely.”
I shovel a forkful into my mouth. I am sure it is lovely, even though I can’t taste a thing. I really don’t want the poor cook to get into trouble.
